Long Conversations
by Bookworm Believer
Summary: Harry is mute after a miscast spell in the final battle, but he still wants to tell Draco how he feels. AU, One-shot, Drarry, Cute, Eighth Year fic.
**A/N: I wrote this for the One Word Challenge, over on the HPFC forum. Highly recommend this challenge. It really got me thinking.**

 **Definitely AU. Harry is mute from a miscast spell during the final battle, but still wants to find a way to tell Draco how he feels. Fluff. Eighth year fic.**

Harry was sitting in the new "Eighth Year" Common Room. It was late and he was the only one awake. He rarely slept these days, and more often than not, could be found curled on the squishy armchair in front of the fireplace.

The Hogwarts teachers had decided to allow the previous Seventh Years to return in order to actually complete their schooling, but there were so few of them that they'd decided to lump them all in one space. Not that Harry himself cared, he actually quite enjoyed it.

So much had changed since the final battle. The biggest thing was the fact that no words had passed through Harry's lips since before Voldemort was killed; only managing to defeat him by a luckily cast non-verbal spell. Harry himself didn't even know what spell it was, but he'd been working hard since then to be able to be able to cast even the simplest of spells nonverbally with little success until yesterday.

Another thing that had changed since the battle was the inter-house friendships. There was animosity between Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw towards Slytherin, but that was mostly in the younger years. All the "Eighth Years" were just tired of the fighting.

So some very unlikely friendships had formed. The most notable being between Harry and Draco Malfoy. The once-enemies had essentially decided to ignore the past seven years they'd known each other, and their friendship was one of the better ones around now.

Draco was actually the reason that Harry had had some success with casting _Lumos_ nonverbally. Draco pushed Harry like no-one else had ever pushed him, and that's exactly the type of person he needed in his life. Hermione was preoccupied with her boyfriend Blaise Zabini, and Ron was trying to make his way into the knickers of every girl in the upper years. So Harry and Draco had spent a lot of time together, with Draco becoming more proficient in understanding the little gestures Harry made in the absence of his speech.

To anyone that knew him well and could pick up on his cues, it wouldn't be a surprise that Harry had developed some _very_ positive feelings towards Draco, and he was fairly sure that the blond felt at least somewhat the same. Or he hoped, since he planned on spilling his guts tonight.

Draco had occasionally came to sit out with Harry, but the last week, Draco had been joining him for a couple of hours by the fire; talking with Harry, or reading a book if Harry didn't feel like conversing. It was in the early days of their friendship that they had developed their strange ways of communication. Draco spoke often, but Harry had adapted his own form of sign language (since evidently, finding Muggle sign language books in a magical school was difficult). Draco had learned very quickly to recognise Harry's gestures; in fact, Draco was the one that acted as Harry's translator if there was a need to speak to a teacher or classmate and there wasn't a quill and parchment handy.

So that is what Harry was doing that night, he was waiting for Draco to join him. They hadn't previously worked out any signs for 'like'. Even though they had spoken about their likes and dislikes in the beginning of their then tentative friendship, it was Draco asking, with Harry either nodding or shaking his head before pointing to Draco to direct the question to him.

So Harry really wasn't certain on how to go about talking to the other boy about his feelings. He couldn't write it down, since Draco had quickly vetoed the notion of Harry using that method of communication with him. Draco was still Draco; he would just refuse to read the parchment.

Harry liked Draco. Actually, he was pretty sure what he felt for Draco was above and beyond that, but he didn't want to scare the bloke off.

Wiping his sweaty palms on the arms of the chair, he sighed. He was stressing himself out far more than necessary. He was Harry, Draco was Draco. They knew each other better than most would think for the short time of their friendship. All he could do was tell himself to _RELAX_ …repeatedly.

Returning his focus back to the fire in front of him, Harry begun to relax and let his mind drift away from reality. He'd discovered that the fire was a good tool to help him forget the rest of the world, which explained why anyone looking for Harry at night could almost always find him in that chair.

An hour, maybe more, had passed when Harry heard Draco's familiar footsteps on the stairs leading from the boys private dormitories. He relaxed further when he turned his head and saw Draco fold himself gracefully into the couch next to Harry's. The grin on Draco's lips was returned easily.

Neither was fussed by the lack of immediate conversation, and both let their thoughts wander away before eventually bringing themselves back to the room. Harry shot Draco another smile and got up to sit next to Draco on the couch, legs folded beneath him so they could be face to face.

The puzzlement on Draco's face brought about silent laughter from Harry, which amused Draco too. Raising one eyebrow in Harry's direction, Draco silently enquired what was on in Harry's head. That caused Harry's grin to grow as he shuffled forward and grabbed Draco's hand off his knee and threaded their fingers together.

Harry mimicked Draco's raised eyebrow and used his other hand to point to himself, their joined hands and then to Draco, and waited. He didn't know what he'd been worried about. Whether it was fighting and being at each other's throats or being friendly and working on homework together, everything between them came naturally.

Draco's fingers squeezed Harry's and he chuckled under his breath.

"Same."

They didn't need more words than that.


End file.
